Out of Reflex
by Rointheta
Summary: Rose sets a few things straight about her and the Doctor's relationship. Takes place directly after Mickey and Rose leave the console room at the end of The Girl in the Fireplace.


**Unbetad  
>Note<strong>: So, I went through my folders and found this almost completed one shot. Apparently I wrote it August 2013. I don't actually remember writing it, but I do remember getting the bunny after listening to the commentary for GitF. Noel and Moffat joked about how Mickey hadn't even changed clothes from the previous episode (School Reunion), while both the Doctor and Rose were wearing new outfits, and how he'd probably not even gotten a room because the other two were too focused on one another. Anyway, I decided to write the ending, edit it, and post it.  
><strong><br>**

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><p><strong>OUT OF REFLEX<strong>

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><p>As they walk down the corridor, Rose lets go of Mickey's hand to leave a little room between them. He glances at her and shoves his hands into his pockets, slowing down their pace to ambling.<p>

"So," he says, "am I gonna get a room, then?"

"What do you mean? Didn't you get one last night?" she asks and he shakes his head. "But… why not?"

Mickey blinks at her, harrumphs. "Guess you forgot all about me, eh?"

"What?"

"After we watched that film, you decided to go to bed and the Doctor disappeared and never came back. Slept on the sofa, I did. I'm just glad there's a loo connected to the media room. Wouldn't want to be forced using his precious plants, would I?"

"Oh." She changes course towards the bedroom quarters. "Sorry about that. The Doctor… Well, he– When I go to sleep, right, he usually sits with me for a while."

"_Sits_? Is that what you call it?"

"Not like that. He sits next to me in bed, fully dressed, mind you, and we chat a little until I fall asleep, that's all. Sometimes I find it hard to wind down after a whole day of running for my life and you know what he's like. Enjoys listening to himself talk and I–"

Mickey chortles at her. "So, what you're telling me is that he tucks you in and tells you a good night story? Does he looks for monsters under your bed too?"

She rolls her eyes at him and swings a door open to reveal a generic looking bedroom with a bed, a wooden desk with a matching chair, a drawer chest, and a door leading to an adjoining bathroom.

"Would this room suit Mr. Smith?"

He takes a couple of steps forward, looking around the room. "Yeah. It's good, this. Still need things, though. Toothbrush, shampoo, deodorant..." Mickey takes a glance down his body. "Change of clothes. Is it just me, or do we still smell like roasted… you know."

Rose wrinkles her nose, pinching the fabric of her tee while looking down at it. "Yeah. Think we could both do with a shower and change of clothes. Look. That door there," she nods at it, "leads to the en suite. You'll find toiletries and that in there and I'll get you something from the wardrobe room, okay? We can drop by your flat tomorrow, cos I don't think he's in the mood for that right now."

Humming thoughtfully to himself, Mickey toes off his shoes while walking to the bed, sitting down. "Yeah, what's that about anyway? Does he always get like this or is it just when he meets French tarts?"

"Just cos you've lost a lot of people, doesn't mean you get used to it."

"Suppose." He pulls his t shirt over his head and tosses it at the backrest of the chair. "Was he inviting her along?"

She leans against the doorjamb with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, think so."

"Is that… common, then? Just inviting people left and right."

"You're here, aren't you? And we've invited people for the odd trip here and there before. Nothing unusual."

"Oh." He takes off his trousers and throws them to join his t shirt, which slides off the polished wood and pools on the floor. "Reckoned he fell in love with her."

Rose lets out a condescending chuckle at Mickey's preposterous theory. The Doctor is already in love with _her_, Rose Tyler. They might not act on it – and maybe they never will, because the Doctor doesn't do _that_ – but she is his and he is hers. He told her he loved her just the other day, for crying out loud. Well, more or less. That's what he meant anyway. She's certain of it.

"There's one thing I know for sure, all right?" she says. "If the Doctor had fallen in love with Madame de Pompadour, he would've solved this whole mess in five minutes and then fled to the other end of the universe. Cos he knew when she was gonna pass away, and there's no way he would've stayed and watched her wither and die unless he had to."

"Yeah, I guess I see your point. "Maybe he just wanted some," Mickey smirks, waggling his eyebrows, "professional company, eh?"

"Hah! Yeah, that would be the day. Anyway, I better go before you give me the full monty."

"You don't wanna stay?"

Rose shakes her head, smiling softly. "Go take a shower and I'll leave you a clean set of clothes, okay? Then I gonna make sure he's all right.

"Okay. Thanks, babe."

Now that Mickey's in his room, the Doctor has no reason for brushing off her concern again. But, just to be sure he's got enough alone time to process, she heads back to her bedroom after dropping off clothes for Mickey, taking her time showering, blow-drying her hair, and changing into a vest top, sleep shorts, and slippers.

She finds the Doctor sitting on the jump seat, twirling his sonic screwdriver between his fingers and looking deep in thought. "Mickey's gone to bed," she says, leaning against the console, and the Doctor looks up at her with a smile. "Wanna talk?"

He pats the empty seat beside him. "Sure. I'm always up for a little chat."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," she says, sitting down.

"Oh. Well..." He tugs at his ear, looking as though he's trying to come up with an excuse for a moment, but then his expression turns sheepish. "Sure. Sure, we can do that."

"Just wanna help."

"Oh, I know." He lifts his arm and places it on the backrest behind her. "I know."

"Did something happen?"

"Well, I invited her to join us for a trip, but she passed away before..." He stares into the pulsing time rotor and sighs, leaving his voice with an airy quality. "I promised I would show her the stars."

She offers him an understanding smile. "I'm sorry you couldn't keep your promise."

"She fancied me."

Rose stifles a chuckle. "Yeah, I noticed. But, Doctor, not the first time someone did, right? And didn't she pass when she was supposed to?" Rose bites her lip, fidgeting with her rings. "It's not like you could've saved her from that. We've learned that the hard way."

"Oh, Rose. I'm so sorry about your father. I didn't mean to–"

She quiets him with a firm look. "Don't change the subject. Why are you so upset about Reinette?"

He sighs again, heavier this time. "I think I might've led her on. And now she died waiting for me."

"You're very flirty, yeah, but she was a courtesan. Reckon she could see it for what it was."

He ducks his head. "That's not what I meant."

Rose knits her brow, shifting a little in her seat. "What did you mean, then?"

"Well, we danced."

"You _what_?"

"Not that kind of dancing."

She didn't realise she was holding her breath until it whooshed out of her in relief. "Oh. Well, that's pretty innocent. Sounds to me like you're all worried over nothing."

"Well... We might've snogged a little as well. Well, we _did_ snog. Well, she snogged me and... I suppose I snogged her back. Just a little bit."

Rose swallows, gritting her teeth and digging her fingers into the jump seat. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he drawls, running his fingers through his hair and the movement carries with it a whiff of Reinette's heady perfume. Rose's top lip curls into a silent snarl. "Didn't mean to lead her on, of course, but she basically threw herself at me and," he cocks his head and sniffs, adjusting his tie, "remarkable woman like that – in fact one of the most accomplished women who ever lived – fancying _me_? Well, that was–"

His proud expression melts into one of horror when Rose stands up with a huff and turns to him with blazing eyes.

"You kissed someone else and you're being smug about it, you bloody git!"

"Eeer..."

"That was the last time you ever snog someone else, you hear?" She points at him in a threatening manner and he shrinks back, shoulders raised and bottom lip protruding slightly. "You hear?"

He gulps. "Yes."

"If you ever do that again, I will leave you! Do you understand?"

Eyes round with fright, he gives her a string of quick, trembling nods.

"Good!" She tugs down the hemline of her vest top. "Well, I'm going to bed. You coming with?" He open and closes his mouth a couple times, looking so very daft she almost feels sorry for him. Almost. "I said: You coming with?"

"Yep!" He jumps to his feet, smiling innocently in that appeasing way of his she knows too well to fall for.

"C'mon, then." She holds out her hand, waving it impatiently until he takes it.

She pulls him with her to her bedroom, seething so intensely she could probably scare off the assembled hordes of Gengis Khan with a withering glare, if they managed to get through the TARDIS' defenses after all. Bloody alien claiming he doesn't do that only to go snogging bloody uncrowned queens any chance he gets whilst she's been waiting for him to get over his bloody intimacy issues. Well, she's having none of that the-Doctor-doesn't-do-that horse shit. The time for patience is over!

She flings the door to her bedroom open, kicks off her slippers, and shoots him a quick glance.

"You're not lying down in my bed reeking of her perfume and roasted people, you're not. If you wanna stay," she puts one hand on her hip, pointing at the en suite with the other, "you're getting a shower. And brush your teeth whilst you're at it and I'll–"

"Time Lords don't need to brush their–"

"You," she says, poking him in the chest, "brush your bloody teeth. And I'll get your pyjamas."

She doesn't realize she has no idea where his bedroom is until she stands in the corridor and don't know whether to go left or right.

"A little help?" she asks the ceiling and the time ship complies immediately, creating a brand new corridor in front of her. "You're on my side, yeah?" Rose asks, walking down the customised path, and grins when the lights flicker in a way she can only interpret as a resounding _yes_.

When she comes back, Howard's jimjams neatly folded in her arms, the Doctor's by her bed, nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. He raises his hand in a pathetic wave, looking a little lost and so incredibly sexy she wants to yank off that towel, push him onto the bed, and have her way with him. Fucking bastard. She's angry not horny!

With a scowl, she throws the jimjams at him and stomps over to her side of the bed, curling up under the blankets, back to him. The towel drops to the floor with a dull thud. The Doctor's naked. In her bedroom. Naked and wet. Wet and _naked_. She swallows a groan and banishes the images her imagination cooks up from the sound of fabric rustling as he slips into his pyjamas.

Cold air wafts into her comfortable nest when he lifts the blankets and joins her in bed. The mattress dips beneath her, making her roll closer. He smells all warm and clean and like he'd be wonderful to snuggle up with.

"I'd like to spoon," she mutters through clenched teeth.

"No arguments from me," he says, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around her waist.

She tries to relax and fall asleep, but his thighs are pressing into hers, his chest against her back, and his nose is nuzzled into the crook of her neck. The anger slowly evaporates, giving way for panic that creeps in and sends her heart racing. They've never lain in bed together before. Never done anything besides handholding and hugs. She feels herself tense up, taking so small breaths her stomach barely moves. Now that she's no longer bossing him around, he'll skitter away any moment. He'll use some silly excuse about TARDIS repairs or a distress signal and tomorrow he'll act like nothing happened. Why did she have to push so hard? Assuming they were together just because–

The Doctor's chest expands with a big intake of breath, interrupting her thoughts. "Mm. You smell good." He snuggles even closer and she's almost certain he brushes his lips over the curve where her shoulder meets her neck. "This is nice."

"Suppose." She hugs his arm closer to her body. "Sorry I yelled at you."

"Oh, I don't know," he says, smile in his voice. "Reckon I deserved it."

"Dunno. We've never, I mean, it's not like, cos we've never, you know? So it's not. Right?"

"I thought it was."

She turns around in his arms, nearly shying away when she realises how close their faces are. "Then why? Why her. Why did you kiss her back when you–" She bites her lip, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Purely out of reflex."

"Oh, I see. So you see a pair of lips coming towards you and you, out of reflex, mind, pucker yours and snog right back?"

"Well, I don't wanna be _rude_," he says, eyes sparkling with mischief.

She exhales her exasperation sharply through her nose. "You expect me to believe that, Mr Rude and Not Ginger?"

"Did with Cassandra, didn't I?"

"I thought," Rose says, playing with the buttons of his pyjama shirt, "you thought that was me."

"I did."

"So that was out of reflex too?"

"At first."

"You grabbed my hip."

"I did."

"Was that out of reflex?"

"Nah, more out of instinct."

"Didn't think you had those kind of instincts."

"Oh, they're there, all right," he says, moving his hand to her hip and pulling her closer. "Buried deep inside, mind you, but they're there."

"I'm still angry with you."

He loosens his grip. "Okay."

"But," she says, feeling his grip tighten again, "say I kissed you, dunno, tomorrow? What would you do then?"

He inhales deeply, eyes wandering to the ceiling as he thinks. "Oh, I don't know. I think I would most likely kiss you back."

"Out of reflex?"

"Not at all. Quite deliberately."

She fights the beaming smile trying to break free. "Okay," she says as nonchalantly as she possibly can. "Good to know."

"And say I kissed you, dunno," his hand leaves her hip and moves up to her face, brushing her hair aside and tucking it behind her ear, "right now?"

Rose's breath catches in her throat and her eyes flit between his. Although his tone was light, he looks serious, intense almost. She shivers. He leans in so close their noses bump, and she stops him from going further by pressing her palm against his chest.

"I'm still angry," she says. "Just a little bit. Enough to ruin it."

"Ah." He rests their foreheads together and she smells her toothpaste on his breath, causing her to smile. "Then I'll wait."

She angles her head and presses her lips to his cheek before snuggling into his embrace, happily obliging when he moves to tuck her head under his chin. "Night, Doctor."

"Good night, Rose." He's quiet for a beat, then she feels him drop a kiss to the top of her head. "Looking forward to tomorrow."

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><p>THE END<p> 


End file.
